Sometimes I forget how different living in a rural area is. Then I talk to Brian about having raised a few head of cattle or pigs or having a pet rooster as a kid or some such thing and I realize that it is odd. All that aside, there's a certain remoteness here that I alternately cherish and despise. Sure it's quiet and I have space to garden, but it's also an hour to the nearest mall. It's even further to an Asian grocery or decent bookstore that carries a range of poetry. And don't let me get started on what it's been like with the recent bout of snow and ice. Or about getting stuck behind slow slow drivers when I'm running late.
Taking all that into account tho, there is something about being out here in the country that satisfies me. This is what started this line of thought: I was outside chipping ice off the steps and salting, as I was getting the stuff from the tool shed I saw a few iris leaves peeking out of the snow and ice. A little yellowed and browned around the edges because of frostbite, but young green foliage all the same. It made me smile a little. I looked across the yard at the dried seedheads and stems in the beds (I never really dead head or clear out old growth until spring. I like to see things sticking out of the snow) and back at that clump of iris and I was happy. I'm not sure why, but seeing that fresh green in the snow and ice-- despite the weather--pleased me.